


Letters From an Angel (January)

by cardinalwrites



Series: Letters from an Angel [1]
Category: SPN, Supernatural
Genre: Destiel - Freeform, F/M, M/M, Tumblr Blog, castiel - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-03
Updated: 2016-05-03
Packaged: 2018-06-06 06:05:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 31
Words: 13,827
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6741688
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cardinalwrites/pseuds/cardinalwrites
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Castiel decided to keep a journal of all that he has thought about humanity, the Winchesters, and their daily lives. Takes you through current season 11 and will at times have destiel worthy canon occurrences from Castiel's point of view as well as episode codas depending on their original air dates. This is January, but the series will go through December.</p><p>All posts taken from @castielsentries, which is very active and ongoing so feel free to check it out</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. January 1, 2016

Hello,

Sam, Dean, and a mutual friend have goaded me into taking up the human habit of a daily journal so as to keep myself occupied and record my thoughts. This “journaling” is a new concept for me, therefore forgive me if at times I am not up to speed with the current phenomena that is to go on in normal human lives.

Keeping a journal does seem to have its potential advantages despite the somewhat tedious task of writing every day. I now have the chance to “express myself” linguistically and write down all of my findings about my experiences. I can also talk about cases that we, Sam, Dean, and myself, are currently investigating, or I can talk about Sam introducing me to “Netflix.” It astounds me that even after so much time I learn something new.

I shall attempt to keep an entry for every day for this new year as part of “New Years Resolutions.” Sam and Dean had their own resolutions, things, events, or cases that they wish to accomplish within the next 365 days. Thought the darkness is our main enemy at the moment there are still times where we will be in the bunker or on smaller “salt and burn” cases, as Dean likes to phrase it. Sam did speak about attempting to catalog all of the information found in the bunker as a resolution (I personally find this an incredible feat if he does manage to complete the task). When I asked Dean he stared at me for a few moments before clearing his throat and looking away. I am unsure of his New Years resolutions as a result.

My resolution will be to eliminate the darkness and the mark once and for all. How this will be accomplished is unclear at present, but I’m told that I should have other, “normal” resolutions. I will have to think on this matter further…

I’ve kept you for long enough… My friend did say that others would be able to access and read my thoughts. While the breech in privacy was a surprise, I believe it could be interesting to read what others have to say on “normal” matters.

Dean is yelling at me to turn the desk light off. He is still have passed out from his celebration of the New Year and therefore is on the couch. I must leave you here then.

 

Yours,

Castiel


	2. January 2, 2016

Hello,

My friend is amazed by the amount of response yesterday’s entry received and told me that I have “new followers.” I am very concerned. I am not a leader, therefore why would other’s choose to follow me blindly?

I have just been informed that the word “followers” has the ability to have alternate definitions. I am no longer as concerned as I was from the beginning (I am still somewhat worried).

Regardless, I am humbled to have caught the attention of followers knowing that they do not expect me to lead them into battle. My friend showed me how to look at the names individually, and I am amazed by the amount of creativity that many of you possess. I am also amazed in how many of you all are interested in ships. I don’t recall ever having been on one personally, but I do see them from time to time and do see the appeal.

I did ponder more on the subject of New Years resolutions, and I do believe I’ve come up with a few. For 2016, I plan on trying different foods. While being an angel rids me of a human taste palette, there are certain delicacies that I’ve still been able to taste from time to time. Dean seemed to be pleased by this when I told him.

As far as the day has gone, it has been menial. Both Sam and Dean have left for a case and a potential lead involving the darkness. I’m unsure as to when they will return but for my part I have remained busy. The bunker has many rooms, and I did find one that stored a variety of coats. They are all very old of course, but there is a great amount of patterns and sizes to explore. Maybe it is because I’ve grown attached to my vessel’s wardrobe after Jimmy’s soul went to heaven, but I did spend quite a fair amount of time looking through the men of letters’ antique coats.

My friend also installed emojis onto my phone so that I may include them in letters. I don’t know who made this one, but it is one of my favorites.

 

Yours,

Castiel

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sidenote, Castiel's friend is Ana, the one who runs the castielsentries blog.


	3. January 3, 2016

Hello, 

It has been a little over 48 hours and already there are over 100 followers reading my recollections. My friend is in utter shock. I am extremely humbled. It has been pleasant speaking with you all over music and Netflix. I now have new experiences as a result (a small tip, do not put Nutella on sushi. I was severely mistaken) and am looking forward to learning more. It’s funny, even after 7 or 8 years on this earth I am still finding new things to enjoy (or, in the case of the sushi, spit out of my mouth quickly). 

My friend has been telling me about her trip to her grandparents’ hometown, and it made me wonder about my brothers and sisters still in heavan as well as the family that I have found in Sam, Dean, And Claire. From my experiences, one of the best ways to remember them is by remembering amusing stories as well as stories where they “annoy the crap out of you.” I’m sure they have stories about myself doing the same to them. It’s nice to have these stories written down, recollections of memories that can be looked over by more than just one person, adding their own version of events in the margins or crossing words out entirely. Even in our memories we continue to learn just a little about our past selves and our state of mind. It’s an intriguing concept. 

I should probably share a story here and put into action what I have already written above. I guess the most recent one was a couple of hours ago. I was in the garage area of the bunker, exploring every nook and cranny while also making sure the warding holds up on all fronts. I can only assume that Dean was washing his car earlier before he left, as the floor was still relatively wet and there was a bucket on the ground, something I was unaware of at the time. The lights were dimmed, limiting my eyesight as I searched for the light switch. During my struggles to find the switch I ended up sticking my food in the bucket and falling hard, sending the bucket into one of the motorcycles parked in the garage. The bike, a beautiful vintage back motorcycle (I am unsure of the make and model due to the lighting), teetered before falling over completely, some glass breaking from its body.

I’m not sure how to put the motorcycle back to its original position and my back still currently hurts, therefore I elected to let Dean deal with it upon his return. What I will tell him I am unsure, but I am making myself scarce when he arrives (he was quite fond of that bike). 

 

Yours, 

Castiel


	4. January 4, 2016

Hello, 

Walking around is much more peaceful than Claire has told me it is (I believe her words something to the effect of, “it’s boring ‘af’ so why would I?” I am not sure what 'af’ means). The bunker is situated near Lebanon, and the town is minute in size. It’s both a blessing and a burden, I suppose. It’s small enough that there is not much going on and it is relatively undisturbed, yet also small enough to signify that the residents can spot a foreigner fairly quickly. 

The first couple of days as a result were quite awkward. Dean tells me he wasn’t particularly warmly welcomed by the residents (He did get kicked out of their bar once. He wouldn’t tell me why, but if Dean got himself drunk enough to start a fight than I can understand why the locals do not favor him). They do seem to like Sam, however. As for me I believe I am referred to as the “town mystery” since I appear sporadically. 

In just walking around today I have come to recognize the familiar faces of the flower shop owner Hannah and the Gas and Sip worker Luke, two teenagers that are about to graduate from high school. There is also the local bar and motel owners, Clive and Thomas, brothers themselves. Whenever we go into town for food or gas or liquor, they are always more then welcoming, even when we were still strangers to them. They all seem to have big dreams. My only hope is that they are able to achieve them without having sudden interference from any otherworldly or supernatural entity come into their lives. Then again, they have unknowingly met an angel and two hunters of the supernatural… Maybe it’s best to stay away from the town. 

It’s a quiet place. I can see why the Men of Letters selected it as the location for their main area of operations. That, and the fact that it is in the geographical center of the contiguous United States. Human thinking definitely does exceed my expectations from time to time. I’m not even sure if Heavan is configured in the same manner. But then again Heavan is far bigger than Lebanon, Kansas.

I have a feeling the bunker itself is bigger than Lebanon, Kansas. It’s a very small town. I wish to explore it further, but best in discretion. 

 

Yours, 

Castiel


	5. January 5, 2016

Hello,

         Dean found the motorcycle while I was out walking. The only reason I know this is because of his slouched demeanor and overall sullen mood. I casually asked him what was wrong and he said the kick stand on the bike had fallen out, causing the entire machine to topple. I believe I am in the clear, though Dean hasn’t said a word to me since and avoids my gaze (My friend calls this the “silent treatment.” I do not like it).

Also, ironically, I was almost hit by a motorcycle today… I suspect Fate was involved.

I helped Sam catalog men of letters records for the majority of the day. They had a lot of information at their disposal accumulated over the many years of the institution. I believe we’ve only digitized a small portion of it. Sam thinks we’ll never finish. I pointed out that we could if Dean would help, spurring a grunt and a “you guys are the brains. I’ve got the brawn!” From the couch where Dean was. Maybe Sam is right on his assumption.

We found a few files on former men of letters, now deceased, and one that stuck to my mind in particular was the file of Antoni Gaudí. He was known as God’s architect, after all, therefore naturally many Angels had come to survey his progress over the years, specifically on his “Sagrada Familia.” Have I ever spoken about color? His manipulation of color was what struck with me. I once misunderstood colors and took them for granted, but I have come to learn that there are countless shades of even the most minute hue. Not only that, but also the notion of altering color via the use of surrounding light for effect is astounding. And to learn that they can have meaning as well! Just how are humans able to produce emotion through the simple choice of a few select hues? How can they signify such an array of different emotions, not always the same? Red can be anger or love; yellow sunshine, happiness, or sickness, for example…How do the colors found in portraits or architecture have such a monumental impact? It’s astounding.

There are countless art offerings to angels and other beings, but up until I’d met the Winchesters I had never really paid attention to the offerings that humans made in our honor. Art just didn’t seem that important at the time as opposed to oaths or prayer for example. Now I wish to see as many color combinations as possible. I think about it constantly. I also wonder how construction on that church is coming.

I told Sam all of this. He just smiled at me and nodded. I wonder if he’d caught me staring at patterns before.

Dean is still making jokes while watching television. I suspect he will fall asleep soon.

 

Yours,

Castiel


	6. January 6, 2016

Hello, 

For many out there, happy Three Kings day. I find today to be a festive human tradition, though Sam and Dean have barely heard of it. I tried leaving candy in their shoes, but I made the mistake of choosing caramel as the sweet. You can imagine the rest.

While Sam and Dean went out to buy new shoes, I stayed behind to watch some of the holiday festivities in other countries. Time wore on throughout the day and the boys did not return until late, though they came back with pork rinds for me. Maybe they do celebrate the holiday a little, or maybe they were annoyed. Regardless, I accepted the gift.

I’d left the television on when they’d returned, therefore we ended up catching a soccer game. Barcelona was playing, I believe, though I vaguely understood the sport. It had been slowly altered and replayed over the centuries, it’s difficult to keep up with rules. Nevertheless, watching the team interact to get the ball from one end to the other is captivating to say the least. They work much like hunters do, weaving around their partners without any signs of verbal communication. The ball passed like a spiderweb from foot to foot. Dean says I was squinting so hard my eyes disappeared. 

(“It’s soccer, not Madonna, Cas”). 

He says that, but I know he was just as absorbed as I was. I can sympathize; It’s very hypnotizing, even though I barely understood what was going on. 

 

Yours,

Castiel


	7. January 7, 2016

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> On this day, the Grammys aired.

Hello,

There seems to be a lot of discussion about an awards show and my friend was elated about the news, telling me to ask the brothers about the person. I asked Sam and Dean if they knew who this Jensen Ackles was as a result. Dean shivered and said he was an actor that was, and I quote, “Fake me.” Regardless, a congratulations are in order for him. Sam found a potential case for us: a series of disappearing bodies in Minnesota. As of right now we can only speculate just what the creature is, but the case does look promising. This of course means that tomorrow will be a travel day for all of us.

Traveling on the road is very hectic, especially just before a hunt. We have to make sure we have as many provisions and weapons packed in the event of any form of emergency or creature. The essentials are always kept in full supply of course: holy water, silver, salt rounds, etc., but the lesser used items are oftentimes the ones we leave behind at the exact moment when we need them the most. There was a case with a wayward forest nymph turned witch where this occurred. We’d ended up staying in that town for two weeks looking for the right weapon, and in that time she’d managed to place a truth spell on Dean as well as an insomnia curse on Sam. For whatever reason after that Dean paid for a separate room for himself, only communicating through Sam to speak to me. I feel that there is something he is not telling me…

The insomnia curse didn’t seem to affect Sam in the way the witch had hoped, rather it only aided in our ability to find the weapon and track her down in the middle of the night. Both spells broke with her death, which meant Sam slept the entire rest of the way back to the bunker and Dean returned to speaking to me face to face. I tried to ask him why he wouldn’t speak to me even while under the spell, but he would brush it off. What is he not telling me? Is it something to do with the Darkness?

I’m getting sidetracked. The moral of the story here is that we have to prepare for absolutely everything, else risking exposure from staying in one town for a long time and being revealed as hunters and risking more loss of human life. Now that I think about it we have yet to take on another witch since that case, besides Rowena (but she is a different matter). I wonder if that is intentional. 

 

Yours, 

Castiel


	8. January 8, 2016

Hello,

It has been close to 10 hours without Internet access and a dead battery. That and my friend was on a transatlantic flight and therefore could not help me post. Apologies.

Time zones are an odd concept, no? On one side of the world it could be mid morning with everyone just waking up to start their day, yet on the other it’s midnight and the lights of the buildings penetrate the dark sky. People from all over the world, living at the same time yet living polar opposite lives. Time zones never existed in Heaven. Well, the construct of time itself was questionable to begin with. I’m not sure how we operated beforehand when dealing with matters conserving Heaven and Earth.

         We’re on our way to Minnesota, and with Dean’s driving we should be there some time tomorrow (how he has yet to get a ticket is beyond me). In the meanwhile Sam downloaded some movies onto a tablet for us to listen to once all of Dean’s tapes started to repeat for more than the fifth time. These marvel movies are quite destructive.

While sleep is no longer needed for myself I do enjoy the rest. Sam and Dean on the other hand have been up for close to 19 hours now. I suspect we will switch drivers soon to give Dean a chance. We need to be ready for the case, after all.

 

Yours,

Castiel


	9. January 9, 2016

Hello,

We’ve managed to arrive in Brewster and spoke with a few witnesses regarding the disappearing bodies. Dean believes it is a wendingo. Sam believes it is a shapeshifter. I am not sure yet. We got a lead on where the creature might be, therefore we will be heading out tonight with the necessary weapons for both prospects.

Of the places we we’ve been to, small towns seem to be the most odd when it comes to solving a case. My friend grew up in a small town; she understands the kinds of bonds that are formed in these people. They are close knit and rely on one another for everything. They run the local businesses; the children all go to one school; it’s an entire self sustaining organism run by these select few. It looks as if it could be a both blessing and a curse. Sam and Dean came from a larger town, yet even they understand. When I asked Sam why, he said it was most likely because their hunter network parallels the concept of a small town. I can agree with that idea. We didn’t have to talk to the families to know just what was going on. Town gossip travels fast, therefore missing bodies are a jackpot for these people. Everyone had an opinion.

You can hence imagine the uproar when three men claiming to be FBI come into the town asking about the case. We were easily spotted. Some witnesses closed themselves off to us before we changed up our strategy, but others were more than ready to admit their theories about aliens or other fantasy creatures (something to do with mistaking us for “men in black”?). Ironically enough, those were the least helpful. Dean was about stop looking for leads before a little girl came up to us holding a daisy. She ran away before we could ask her anything, but the daisy proved useful as a lead despite making Dean sneeze upon sniffing it.

We have to wait for well past midnight so as to not disturb the “nosy neighbors” (Dean’s words, though I have to agree) and continue the rumors. I suspect many do not believe we are FBI but are too nervous to say anything. We have to figure this case out quickly unless we think of a new profession to mimic. 

 

Yours, 

Castiel

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Brewster is an actual city, in case you were wondering :)


	10. January 10, 2016

Hello,

It was a shapeshifter… A very diabolical shapeshifter…

Between getting held up in the motel and a case of mistaken identity, today was a particularly rough day. The case is solved, however. No more bodies will go missing.

Sam somehow made it back to the bunker within the day. I am still under as to how we have yet to catch a speeding ticket, but at the same time we know not to take any major highways. Frankly, I believe we are all too drained to care at this point.

Coming back to the bunker, coming home, is a very rewarding experience. No matter how many days, weeks, or months, we are gone, the routine that is the route to the bunker somehow manages to stay consistent: Dean would go straight to the shower, Sam to the library to put away any lore books we brought with us, and I would busy myself with taking weapons or delicate objects to storage. Always the same, day in and day out. It’s very human that way.

But this case was a little different in reception. The shifter had somehow managed to morph into late hunters as well as ourselves. I believe the emotional toll was grating for Sam and Dean, even if neither will even attempt to discuss it. I know it took it’s turn with me when the shifter turned into Samandriel.

Hence the routine changed. Instead of our usual chores, Dean dragged me to sit on the couch in front of the television, Sam not far behind with beers. The rest of the night was spent in silence, the television playing yet another sports match, though my fatigue was too great to remember just what sport occurred. I have a feeling that this is Sam and Dean’s way of communication, this silent scene that I witnessed and partook in. The only sounds apart from the television came after about an hour when Dean’s stomach growled. Only then did any semblance of the routine begin to return. We are creatures of habit, after all. 

I sense that this case was only the beginning of a list of emotional events that neither Winchester has completely told me about. I suspect it relates to the Darkness somehow.

But enough is enough for now. Dean is making burgers (no surprise I admit) while Sam is putting the lore books away. The past is behind us now.

Yours,

Castiel


	11. January 11, 2016

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> On this day, David Bowie passed away...

Hello,

Dean locked himself in his room for the majority of the day. A music legend passing away triggered this sudden change in behavior, and I can still hear the lyrics to “Changes” clearly through the thin walls. It seems that the world, or at least those acquainted with the music of this David Bowie. I can only hope he is safe in Heaven despite its current state. I did like his songs whenever they played in the Impala.

Getting back into old habits, for whatever reason, has always seemed interesting to me. As I said before humans seem to be a creature of habit, even when they themselves fail to recognize it. Sam will always order a salad on hunts, for example, or Dean will wake up in the middle of the night and go on a patrol in the bunker despite the warding. That one I discovered by accident as I had been doing the same thing and nearly ended up beheading Dean in the darkness. Since then I’ve remained in my room watching Netflix, a habit of my own. 

It’s strange to think that these things are a detail of everyday life, that we feel incomplete without having done them for that particular day. So when routines change completely, maybe due to a sudden move or a return from vacation, it takes a few days to for the brain return to the same mind set. I only realized this when I had become human and found myself a job and source of income, day in and day out repeated the same steps. Well, that, and finding that the drink known as a “slurpie” tastes odd and is a pain to clean. That part of my routine is something I do not miss.

 

Yours,

Castiel

 


	12. January 12, 2016

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What I write here is to give you an idea of what was going on during the time this entry was written. In this case the tumblr this is taken from had received quite the amount of information, thus, the idea was born.

Hello,

Today was quite the day for communication, wasn’t it? I believe I answered upwards of 14 asks in one sitting, though my lack of being able to sleep is most likely the culprit for that one. 

I enjoyed speaking with all of you all today, and the conversations that spawned from each questioned led me to ask a few of my own to both Sam and Dean. I did recall some very fond memories due to your questions, and made some new ones as the day went on and I spoke with Ana. As for Sam and Dean, communication and the Winchesters do not always mix well for whatever reason, despite hunting requiring some form of it. The brothers themselves always find something to hide, why I fear I will never know. There are days where I honestly question if their refusing to talk to each other is merely just them continuing their habits spawned from years on the road, but who am I to judge them so harshly on that? I myself have kept secrets from them, some very serious ones.The sword swings both ways. I can only hope that those days are behind us now and the only secrets that we keep are presents for celebrations. 

Communication as a tool is quite fascinating. We have Enochian as our primary language of communication, but Earth seems to have thousands, some now considered dead while others dialects, transforming themselves to accommodate the creation of new words and configuring them into their everyday jargon. Words, used interchangeably or discreetly, can all have different meanings in different countries, even in the same language. It will evolve and spread along with the people that speak it, new jokes being learned for that language and new opportunities that are now accessible as a result (which is why it saddens me that Sam and Dean will not understand Enchain jokes). Yes, communication is very important.

Now if only Sam and Dean would figure that out once and for all.

But I didn’t mention today. It was very subdued, with us taking a break and doing a little more housekeeping of the bunker. We found a couple of books on animals towards the back of one of the storage rooms, their purpose unclear as of yet, but they do sport illustrations that seem to move along with the eye. Sam thinks it is a witch’s spell book. Dean does not want to go near it, so I am the one that is left with moving the book to a cleaner room. There is a picture of a squirrel on one of the pages, and I swear it flicks its whiskers at me when I speak. My eyes must be playing tricks on me.

 

Yours,

Castiel


	13. January 13, 2016

Hello,

It has been a busy day today, mainly due to an unknown bottle toppling over and breaking in the bunker. As a result, Sam and Dean spent the better half of the day chasing a ghost that was messing with the lights and had the habit of manifesting as a bride. To say that it was less than desirable is an understatement.

We have only just managed to neutralize the ghost a half hour ago, a woman from the 1800s that had been imprisoned due to her beliefs and uncanny ability to behead men she admired… It really has been one of the oddest days of this year and I would very much not like to repeat it. 

Our heads remain intact, just as an aside. 

There are always hunts, cases, or adventures stick with us, whether for better or for worse. Today was no exception, but I have a feeling it will be a long time before I can erase the memory of a cackling woman running about the bunker singing “Don’t you forget me,” in the same tone of voice usually found in horror movies that I have seen. It certainly wasn’t the most frightening preemptive hunt that we have had, but that did not stop it from being a giant game of Pac man with us as the targets. At one point she cornered Sam, but no one wants to talk about how _that_ escape went or how Sam managed to hit her in the head with a candelabra shaped like an antler…

         …

In other news the world is still intact. That is a comforting thought… 

 

Yours,

Castiel


	14. January 14, 2016

Hello,

Have you ever grown annoyed with standing? Standing without being able to get the chance to sit down? It is quite the sport after 5 hours, and even more of a struggle after 8.

I did not mean that in a particularly bad manner. The comment originates from me having to stand as a lookout outside of the bunker due to police cars patrolling the area. For whatever reason they had begun to be suspicious about the abandoned bunker, but after a lengthy chat with the officers in the car they were gone once again, back in the direction of the town. 

Now, this is the part that leads to the comment.

I may have forgotten to get my key when I had waited outside for the officers, and Sam and Dean were out. As you may have guessed, this led to 8 incessant hours of standing on an otherwise muddy landscape (the reason I could not sit down).

I am making it sound more horrible than it was, but rest assured that when Sam and Dean returned I retreated to the comfort of the chair in my room, avoiding Sam’s growing fit of laughter upon explaining my predicament. I am back inside once and for all finally, but it was a very unconventional day to say the least, and given that our lives are filled with creatures that many believe are nonexistent, that is a very outstanding point.

On the bright side to all of this standing (there was one, yes), I had ample time to observe the surrounding trees around the bunker. Walking around and finding birch, oak, and maple among others was an interesting way to spend the long hours. It was very peaceful there, just the sound of the wind blowing through the trees leaves. One could almost forget all of the damage that is still yet to be solved.

Unfortunately that did not stop my feet from hurting.

 

Yours,

Castiel


	15. January 15, 2016

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you're read this far that means you enjoy these (thank you!) so my question is for you, would you rather I keep the titles by the dates or by the topic that Cas talks about? Also, if it's destiel-y would you want that in the top, too, or in the summary?
> 
> Lemme know, and thanks for reading <3

Hello,

We have made through half of the first month of this year already and since then I have learned so much from all of you that have asked questions as well as learned more about myself. With almost 350 followers now all that I can express if my humble gratitude to you all.

As for today, I attempted to make lunch consisting of a salad with grapes and apples. One of Sam’s new year’s resolutions was to get Dean to eat healthier, and as a result here we were in the kitchen preparing food without batter or cholesterol inducing fries. Dean, of course, did not know at the time or else he would have slipped away and returned with a burger and beer in hand. He was still nowhere to be found while we were making food however.

I was tasked with cutting the apples to put into the salad, a menial task that should have been easily accomplished quickly, or at least, that was the general idea. Unfortunately, I had yet to use what is best referred to as an apple cutter, a kitchen utensil designed to cut the core straight out of the apple and leave you with apple slices that can be cut into smaller pieces from there. Sam had been busy making the chicken, therefore I was left with trying to get the now cut core out of the middle of the blades of the apple cutter. It should have been simple really.

I pushed the end of a fork into the center so as to attempt to remove the core from the cutter, but I ended up using too much force which resulted in part of my thumb meeting the blade of the cutter, slicing it until it was stopped by my nail. The pain itself was nulled, being that I have experienced far greater pain and have the ability to heal, but this mistake did not go unnoticed by Sam, who proceeded to take the cutter away from me and give me a bandaid for the cut. It didn’t look like any blood (or grace now that I think about it) had gone into the salad, but we ended up starting a new one just to be safe. The cutter was also scrapped and I decided to let my thumb heal naturally. It was deep but minuscule, so it should be okay in a few days. I refrained from using anything but a knife after that, though.

We were about to sit down to eat when Dean showed up, a milkshake and whiskey in hand. He did ask why my hand was bandaged, but Sam interrupted with an annoyed scoff as to Dean’s choice of lunch. The idiot.

 

Yours,

Castiel


	16. January 16, 2016

Hello, 

We caught a small case today. It was just outside of Lebanon, so it didn’t require a motel stay or even a costume change. Sam came in with a story about the townspeople talking about cows being found mutilated one town over, so we decided to investigate. 

Which is how I found the existence of county fairs. 

I have seen county fairs before, but usually they contained very dreary and tired animals that I would set free. This one was different; it was strictly full of amusement park rides, a strange sweet named cotton candy, and children of all ages enjoying themselves. I must confess I felt out of my element in the fray of people, couples holding hands, children running around. This was chaos. This was life in its prime.

We had managed to track the mutilations to a local witch hiding in the fair, which meant that we had to stay to find the hex bag in the mirror attraction. I have never seen so many odd forms staring back at me, some low to the ground, others tall and snake-like, completely distorting my frame. If it weren’t for the fact that we were on a hunt I would have stayed to see how the mirror worked, but Dean pushed me along until we found the bag towards the back behind another mirror. Our crisis had been averted without causing an uproar. On our way out, a little girl ran up to me and Dean much to the protest of her mother trailing behind her.

“Can you be my best friends?” She had such an innocent voice, speaking to us as if we were her uncles at a family get-together. I was perpetually confused at her words, unsure of how to react. There was no way she could know she was talking to hunters. Why would she want us as best friends?

Dean reacted first, dropping to his knees to meet her at eye level. He patiently told her that we had to leave, but he gave her a dollar to buy cotton candy. Watching the entire exchange, it was “very out of our wheelhouse,” as Dean would say. However it was a nice change of even if we still had yet to find the witch…

Which turned out being the mother.

We are back in the bunker now, having managed to corral the witch without being hexed in any damaging way. The little girl was snapped out of the trance she had been in, so we had to escort her to her very distraught mother at child services. I am very glad that we were able to reunite them.

I did end up trying cotton candy. What a strange sensation to have the substance instantly melt in one’s mouth.

 

Yours,

Castiel


	17. January 17, 2016

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 150 followers have been reached on the castielsentries tumblr
> 
> Also, Jaxcon started today in Florida.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also, feel free to let me know about any typos or grammar you may find. It's been a while since I looked at these.

Hello,

There are many new followers today, over 150 to give an idea. I am deeply humbled that you all take the time to read my recollections and respond as well.

We are currently in Florida where the weather was a bit unpredictable, constantly alternating between a clear sky with humidity to a severe thunderstorm with a chance of tornadoes. I fear the Darkness is somehow involved, but as we turned the news on we learned that this has been happening more and more with every passing month. This is troubling, but the Floridians do not seem to mind. It is almost unnerving how they will still go to amusement parks and other outside attractions with weather like this. Even college, where Ana is, is still operational.

I have the ability to somewhat understand the air fluctuations and temperature differences that come with erratic weather patterns, but that does not mean I cannot be caught off guard by a sudden torrential downpour when we were retreating back to the car after having spoken with a couple on a potential case.  Dean continues to comment that “all the weird stuff happens in Florida.” I am beginning to not question his logic.

We spent the day in the town of Jacksonville, seeing an uncharacteristically large amount of youth in the area. It was only until later on in the day that we had learned there had been what is referred to as a “fan convention” at the time, but from what Sam and Dean both told me they fear it is best I never set foot in such a place. My curiosity got the better of me, however, since we were still in close proximity to the hotel where the convention was taking place. 

I saw many young adults and even a few mothers with angel wings and deep black eyes, none of them even resembling any hunters I have met. What are these conventions, and why were there people there masquerading as demons and other creatures alike? I wanted to enter to see what else I could find, but I feared I would be recognized as an enemy by one of the demons. It was too crowded for me to attack, therefore I left.

Dean tells me I may have witnessed a _Supernatural_ convention, but his eyes looked as if he was remembering a terrible nightmare. First, there is this concerning weather, and now there are conventions based off of our lives? This most certainly is somehow the work of the Darkness.

 

Yours,

Castiel


	18. January 18, 2016

Hello, 

I would have never believed installing a printer was as difficult as it was tonight. We bought a relatively inexpensive printer, only really needing to use it for a few months at the most, but the copying piece of technology came with about 5 sets of instruction manuals as well as a CD that needed to be installed onto a computer. We thought it was going to be relatively simple. Suffice to say we were deeply mistaken. 

The ink cartridges exploded from pressure, dowsing Sam and me in dark blue. The printer would not fully print lines, which left us with indecipherable lines of lore. It started smoking about halfway through installation, and Dean swore it was possessed. I do not think I have seen a piece of technology behave with this amount of chaos before. We eventually did get it into to a somewhat consenting mood, printing out the required items. I doubt we will be using it any time soon, however. 

My shirt is now stained blue, much to my annoyance. It will take quite a few washes to get it out, if it is even possible to salvage it. A pity really, I grow attached to the clothing I wear quickly, but hopefully this is not too bad of a situation. Technology can be a monster as well it seems. 

 

Yours, 

Castiel

 

 


	19. January 19, 2016

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A new Supernatural trailer aired today that had a lot of fans concerned over Castiel's wellbeing because he did not look particularly well.
> 
> Ana is the one that runs @castielsentries
> 
> This is pretty much where it starts flowing with the episodes, therefore be weary of spoilers if you are not current with season 11

Hello,

Ana is looking at me with fear and worry in her eyes, vaguely whispering about a trailer? There are days where I feel as if she could possibly tell me my future if she really wanted to, but she refuses to tell me anything at the moment for fear that it will affect my choices. 

There seems to be a dangerous battle ahead. Both Sam and Dean have left on a potential lead on the darkness, leaving me in the bunker with nothing to do but continue to rest. I decided to spend the time doing research, looking for anything that could help us with our current predicament. That was how the research began, but then there was this advertisement concerning a small kitten on the corner of the page I was on that led me to YouTube. 

It has been 4 hours.

This website has millions of videos, endless hours of streaming. There are ones of humans doing very bizarre stunts that almost always result in physical injury, ones of animals in a zoo stealing the camera used to record them, and ones of music playlists (which I did know existed courtesy of a lovely playlist I had received). I spent my time looking at the animals and documentaries that I found about different flora and fauna. Did you know chamomile has both therapeutic and natural properties? Or if a dog’s nails are cut to close to their core it results in the entire nail splintering? Or if combining honey with hot lemonade is a remedy for a sore throat? It has been quite enlightening, listening to these documentaries about such a variety of different subjects. There have been a few on the supernatural as well, though some are not as factual as I would have hoped.

While progress has been slow, I have accumulated a new vault of knowledge that may be useful later on. I only hope Sam and Dean have found a way to end this battle before it gets too heated. 

 

Yours,

Castiel


	20. January 20, 2016 - The Devil in the Details

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ties directly with episode 11x10 "The Devil in the Details" 
> 
> Watch before reading to get a better idea of what was going on in that particular episode

Hello,

Dean called, but I knew what had happened in an instant. Amara had been smited with enough power to level a city, certainly, but why was Dean returning to where he had last seen her? When a smiting occurs, it is dire for any non-celestial being to be well away from the area. Therefore I did what I knew would help: I went after Dean. 

It was not difficult finding him; he had stopped the Impala just off the side of the road, already outside, retching. Something happened to him, and yet he still wanted to return to the site of the smiting despite his sickness. I needed to get him as far away as possible, which left the only option: finding the remains of Amara alone. 

I had assumed Heaven would send angels down to investigate the wreckage. What I had not assumed was the overwhelming power that ran through the area. Bathed in darkness, the sun not even remotely shining through. Something was horribly, terribly wrong. Where was the sun? If Amara had been truly smited, wouldn’t the afternoon still be present? I found a cremated circle of charred field, but no signs of Amara. This was very bad indeed.

That was when I met Ambriel and we began to investigate. At first, she seemed okay, but her lack of observation is disconcerting. Then she began to speak of other stories, however, and about my role in them all. Was it true? Me? Expendable? Yes, it may be true that both Sam and Dean have left on several cases before, leaving me to rest in the bunker or to my own devices… but is it because I am not truly needed? It is true I have failed more than I have succeeded, and the times I have succeeded it is due to the courage of either Sam or Dean. Humanity has affected me in so many ways. I have died to save them, rebelled for them, helped them through everything that I could… without much of a hint gratitude in return. Why do I continue to do it then? Am I not a hero as well?

No. No, it can’t be. I save, I help… But, that is all she said I do. Is this really all that I am able to do?

I found Amara, sucking her darkness back into herself, once again letting the light shine through on her command. She said she had Ambriel’s memories, essence, grace, she had consumed everything. In that moment I felt true fear. If she had enough strength to block out the sun, then there was not even a slim chance of me being able to defeat her. I knew this, but still I fought, because fighting is what I know. I was once a soldier, after all. 

But I was pinned quickly, failing once again. Of course I could not stop her. What was I thinking? I would end here, and the world would end soon after. I failed Sam and Dean. I could not run. So I told her to do it, end my misery.

There was a blinding flash of pain that seared into my chest. I have felt death on numerous occasions, but this was not that. Amara had transported me somewhere. It was only when I was able to look into the eyes of a reaper that I understood just where. She used me to send a message, forcing me to help her in my attempt to warn Dean. Am I really just a tool?

“I Am Coming.” The Darkness would stop at nothing to get to God and end the world He created. She will not rest until she finds a way, and she will kill Sam and Dean for trying to stop them. I understood the view before me quickly enough: Sam was not in sight but rather was in the cage with Lucifer, the only archangel left with even a remote chance of stopping the Darkness… When we heard Sam scream, Dean and I reacted, pure instinct taking over. I knew it had been a bad decision at the time, but I needed to help. I needed to feel as if I had not screwed everything up again.

We managed to enter the cage just in time, but when Lucifer had Dean pinned to the edge, giving Sam an ultimatum, I merely acted, any semblance of thought no longer in me. All was about to be lost if Sam said yes. There would be no way I as going to let that happen. I needed to save them; I needed to help. 

So I said yes. I accepted my fate, because this was the only way that I knew both Sam and Dean would survive and the Darkness could be stopped. I experienced her power first hand and failed. I refuse to fail again.

I am still here, trapped within my body. Is this what Jimmy felt like when we shared a vessel? Immovable? Going my mouth and yet no longer hearing my voice? It is exceedingly hot, but my eyes are still seeing. I can see what Lucifer is doing, hear what he is saying, feel my muscles break Rowena’s neck. I can only hope I will be strong enough to expel him when the time comes. I do not know what tomorrow or the next week will bring, but I only have my memories to look back on now.

There are dark times ahead, but I am still alive. I am still here somewhere…

 

Yours,

Castiel


	21. January 21, 2016

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Deals with aftermath of 11x10. A coda if you will but not too coda-y

**January 21, 2016**

Hello,

Time has been a little different as of late. I have grown so accustomed to the human standards that I am now disorientated whenever a sudden change has occurred. It reminds me of when I had spoken about time change previously, but that is not what I wish to dwell on today.

Today had visions, sporadic moments spaced throughout in where I was able to see and feel with my own being for a while. They were short and brief, but nevertheless freeing. I do not know yet if this is considered an act of mercy or if I should feel so grateful. 

I do not remember much of the past day in the way of current affairs, but this jarring motion of being pulled from reality so swiftly has reminded me of those gargantuan amusement park attractions of roller coasters and free fall rides. Why do we willingly put ourselves through these experiences? I did not know at the time; actually I am unsure if I even know now.

Which brings me to the story of a roller coaster. I had yet to ride a one at the time, but Claire had asked to ride alone. Naturally I was in the back seat behind her’s as a compromise. The ascent into the sky was not difficult or quick. It was almost methodical, which confused me since Dean had said that these rides were “where adrenaline gets drunk.” I did not feel any such chemicals. That is, until the car we were in plunged 90 feet straight down at over 60 miles per hour.

I felt the nostalgia of my wings at that moment; I would have easily gotten Claire and myself out of that car without a moment’s notice. It was too sudden, too forced to feel natural. This was a machine meant for fun? It was only making me dizzy from the brute force tearing away from the natural current of the wind. When we finally exited the attraction, however, Claire was smiling, grinning upon seeing my state despite my current feelings on the matter. I only then understood there that it was not exactly the search for feeling that pushes humans to do such dangerous tasks; it is the experience of living through it until the end, even if you do not remember the seconds in between.

That does not mean I am enjoying my current predicament; but I am at a point where I cannot remember anything that proves that this was a means to an end. All I can pray for now is the ability to heal myself further without arousing suspicion. 

 

Yours,

Castiel


	22. January 22, 2016

Hello,

It seems today was a stressful day for me, or at least I believe it was. Oftentimes when such days occur I think it best to step away from the situation from time to time if it is not incessantly pressing. I remember days where Sam, Dean, or I would be stumped with an issue and result to disregarding it for a few hours so as to refocus. Sometimes it was much needed in order to find the problem and execute a hunt, but other times the issues were more personal, more guarded, by one of us, which would often result in never touching the subject again. 

Work and emotion war against one another constantly, though with respect to today it was more of a mixture of both raging against the evils control us. It was no particular situation that brought this thought on; more of an extended observation, something that I have been seeing since well before the beginning of this year. We have all dealt with it on numerous occasions, typically when we have more than one hunt happening or more than one potential lead with a time limit on it. As seasoned hunters, Sam and Dean seemed to have learned how to manage this conflict within themselves, but when it comes to personal traits, such as nights at the motel when one has a nightmare, or when a noise is heard in the bunker storage rooms in the middle of the night. It’s this underlying fear that they never seemed to have fully mastered, no matter how much they deny it. Why is this relevant? Because it is when emotion is concerned with the Winchester that they refuse to speak about it, more so with each other. If they continue to lie to each other about their whereabouts, then I do not think they will ever be able to stop the Darkness, present conditions aside. 

For myself, I attempt to not be as guarded when it comes to speaking with them, though even I have my own secrets. I understand why Sam and Dean have this war, but why do I? Why is it that emotional responses have such a profound effect on me when I myself was not built to originally have them? This is what I would have thought to myself when I first arrived on earth. Now, it is more of a question of how long will it be before a side wins. How long will it be before the war ends and the Darkness is eliminated, and after that then what? Where will I be?

How long will it be before these emotions can finally be spoken openly?

And lastly, how long will it be before they realize I am not me?

 

Yours,

Castiel


	23. January 23, 2016

Hello,

I haven’t had a dream in a long, long time. It was common when I became human, but something must have stayed that allows for me to continue dreaming, albeit sporadically. Sam had told me once that dreams have these hidden meanings found within them, like the subconscious trying to tell us what we are really missing. Sometimes they are affected by every day events, such as the impala or the people in my life that I see everyday, but other times they are abstract and unknown, an enigma waiting to be understood. I had that particular sort of dream a little while ago. Frankly, I am not even sure it was a dream, a hallucination, or reality. It is all just so mangled together at present that I cannot tell the time or the day.

In my dream, I was not myself. Rather, I was not present in my body. I could see Jimmy’s vessel—my body— standing in front of me, but at the same time the world around us was still, silent. What was this place? Why is there no movement? As if on cue, a rabbit hopped towards us, oblivious to the happenings around it. It was a small rabbit, black fur with white ears, but it stopped just short of me and looked up. I have no idea what this could mean, but the rabbit slowly transformed into a squirrel before proceeding to run up the body in front of me and positioning itself on my shoulder. I wonder what that gesture means as well, but my mind was not cooperating with my body.

Dreams can be very revealing about our personalities and natures, yet at the same time they can also signify our troubles and departures from reality. A squirrel sitting atop my shoulder is something I have yet to completely figure out, but I also do remember a salamander speaking to me through a television as the dream progressed. That is another thing; if dreams are meant to help us understand a deeper meaning, why are humans not able to remember every detail for more than 20 seconds after the dream ends? It is a confusing ideal that humans all somehow share, but even with this dream I find myself going through the same motions. The squirrel was rather fluffy, but I could not feel it. My only sense available to me was sight; how strange is that? Is this a common point in all dreams? 

I must learn more about this, but I will have to wait until the next time my mind wanders into wherever it is that spurs these imaginations. 

 

Yours,

Castiel

 


	24. January 24, 2016 - Dean's Birthday

Hello,

As many of you know, today is Dean’s birthday. 

Birthdays were foreign to me when I first got here almost 8 years ago now. I myself did not have one, so when Sam came to me the first year about betting something for him I was very confused. Over the years I’ve come to realize just how important it is to celebrate birthdays, even more so when the person in question who turns a year older has accomplished and saved so many people countless times without any form of gratitude in return. 

It has become a game now, Dean trying to figure out what it is that we are planning and try to stop if because he does not like all the attention. It seems he shared the same idea of birthdays that I once had, but every year I sit down with him and tell him the same words that Sam told me once the first time Dean’s birthday came around. Birthdays are meant to celebrate the birth of a person, meant to celebrate the battle that was won in order to enter the world and become a part of it. By celebrating, we reflect on the past year and look at how we’ve grown as people, how we’ve faired over the last 365 days, how we’ve survived. Usually when I reach this point, Dean takes over and finished for me. I believe he has my speech memorized as a result.

“Yeah, I get it Cas. ‘It’s important that we celebrate living another year because it means we’ve survived another year full of mayhem thrown our way’ yada yada yada.” He would say this every year with the smallest of smiles on his face, almost imperceptible if one wasn’t close enough to look.

Funny enough, he never stops me from telling him these things every year, which only leads me to believe he secretly does enjoy celebrating his birthday and the work that Sam and I put in so that he can eat his favorite pie and cheeseburger. It isn’t much, but given our status in the world and who we are, it is enough.

Over the years the birthdays have slightly changed so that Dean does not always expect just what is coming. That, and that we try to invite those that we consider family so as to be together, because in this line of work one never really knows when that will happen again. Today was no different. Present conditions aside with what happened in Hell, Sam and I have been planning today for about a month now, ever since Dean got particularly drunk one night and complained about it. When he did make it back to the bunker he was greeted with a selection of balloons and streamers around the main table that Claire helped me blow up. We got Jody and the girls down as well, so it was like a, “rag tag team of kickass women and us,” as Sam had put it.

Claire had been telling me about surprise parties and said that we should try it. At first I was apprehensive, because that meant turning the lights off in the bunker until Dean returned from wherever it was that he had spent the night. She was persuasive, however, and so within 5 minutes of hearing the Impala in the garage we had all of the lights off. Dean still came through the main entrance despite parking the car in the garage, so we clearly heard him yell about the lights before misstepping on the stairs that led down to where we were in hiding. 

The lack of light resulted in his falling down the flight of stairs and landing on his ankle, not quite spraining it but enough to make him yell a string of curses and limp slightly. Claire would not look him in the eye after we had revealed ourselves due to Sam’s bursting out laughing from by the stairs. In hindsight, turning the lights off on a seasoned hunter was not the best idea Claire has made me do…

He retired to his room after the debacle, but he did let me inspect his ankle once the others had gone to bed. He looked pretty tired, and I soon realized that he had fallen asleep at some point during our conversation. 

Birthdays, especially Sam and Dean’s, are never guaranteed. So for Dean to turn 37 today is a major accomplishment as well as a nice change of pace compared to our other days. It made us slow down to truly attempt to relax for the day, Dean having said that for once he wanted a “lazy day where I don’t have to do crap and can just enjoy what I want.” His wish was fulfilled, that much I can say.

Happy birthday, Dean. May you have many more.

 

Yours,

Castiel

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This also marked the birth of [deansentries](http://www.deansentries.tumblr.com) and [samsentries](http://www.samsentries.tumblr.com) on tumblr


	25. January 25, 2016

Hello,

Sam attempted to explain law practices to me once a little while ago. It came back to my mind today as I caught sight of a terms and conditions form while online. I have been told that many people do not bother reading the terms and conditions of such contracts, which frightens me very much given that demon deals thrive under the same pretext. That being said, however, the language used in these contracts is in no ways colloquial English. I find it difficult to believe it is even English at times.

There are terms whose dictionary definitions are absolutely baffling, their context even more confusing then the individual words. After reading one in particular I am beginning to understand why humans bypass this step altogether and hit the check box. Just what does “member of the party cannot be held reliable for the actions of the paying party,” even mean?It also asked for my first born, my most incriminating secret, and a lifelong agreement with the company…I only wanted to purchase one particular song in the normal, legal manner.

I do try to read all of the terms and conditional statements where it is relevant, such as with charges that occur online, whether it be a by means of fake credit cards or otherwise. That was what led me to ask Sam about it, which only resulted in a two hour lecture concerning the practices and legal benefits of understanding the world of a lawyer. From my gathering, Sam had not graduated with a degree before he left, yet he could have easily become a lawyer even 10 years after leaving college. Dean came in during that conversation, listened to 5 words Sam said, and then proceeded to leave quickly. Judging by his quick escape I have a feeling Sam has attempted to have the same conversation with his older brother, most likely when Dean got arrested and had been awaiting some form of trial.

I may have garnered some new information from Sam during that explanation, but that did not help me nearly enough in trying to understand these terms and conditions. There are some very peculiar requests on there. I urge you all to be careful when agreeing to such things. For me personally it would be difficult to track me being that Jimmy has passed and I myself do not exist in the United States List of living persons, but that does not mean I will be accepting those terms and conditions for the sake of one song.

 

Yours,

Castiel


	26. January 26, 2016

Hello,

While I may not feel the need to sleep as a human does, I have been known to rest for an excessive amount of time while we are not on a case. That being said, the feeling of having to get up right as your mind begins to return to reality is very cathartic as well as, frankly, annoying to experience. There is this feeling where you mind begins to have a battle with your body concerning the stress of the things that have to be done that day, but then your mind continues to revert to the same 5 words: “It’s very comfortable here.” This does not happen often to me anymore, but when I was human it was a common occurrence. It was just something about the feeling of warmth in a sleeping bag or under the covers of even the hardest of beds that made me wish to remain there, no matter how pressing the matters were that I had to attend to that day.

Sleep, especially comfortable sleep, is something neither I nor Sam or Dean experience often, if at all. Humans sleep on average about 8 hours a night, yet we have pulled countless 24-48 hour days hunting and even while at the bunker, either researching or catching up on human day-to-day news. The concept of a good night sleep is foreign enough to all of us that when the times such as the aforementioned arrive, we fight even harder to remain in these cocoons of a half-awake state. I have only ever seen it happen once or twice with Sam, but on more than one occasion has it happened with Dean when we were at the bunker.

There was one moment, however, when it had happened on a hunt. It was after the Mark had been removed from Dean, and despite the Darkness having emerged at the time and the other calamities that were occurring, Dean slept for a much longer period of time than his usual 4 hours. It was most likely bordering 18, but neither Sam nor I said anything about it. The only reason I know Dean had been in that half-asleep, unconscious state was because I would peek into the room from time to time. Sam had mentioned he had had nightmares, therefore the lack of any noise was just as concerning as the screaming that had been heard not long ago. He was okay, of course. Completely exhausted, but okay. He did not really move from his bed for the entire day.

I am unsure as to why that memory occurred to me today, but perhaps it is because I too am feeling that same lull to continue sleeping. The problem is I do not remember having fallen asleep to begin with.

 

Yours,

Castiel


	27. January 27, 2016 - Into the Mystic

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Watch 11x11 before reading. "Into The Mystic" told from Cas's pov. Slight coda.

Hello,

I caught a few glimpses of swans by a lake in the park. It felt peaceful, tranquil, but at the same time I felt restricted, blinded. I was not myself. Of course one of the things that one would miss after having been incarcerated would be nature. What I did not expect was an angel at the park.

I have no control over my body. Part of me does not even know where I am or if I am even in my body at all, but I could still feel the power rip through the other angel, feel the blood stain my skin. I knew the circumstances that would come with saying Yes. That does not mean I enjoy seeing more angels die. Lucifer does not seem to care.

He is keeping to his word despite that, for now at least. Either by using my memories or just outright finding it, we returned to the bunker in search of any information on Amara and the Darkness. Where Sam and I spent countless hours cataloging as much as possible, Lucifer did not care about keeping everything in place. My mind continued coming in and out during this, watching him use my hands to rip open cabinets and files, not finding the information needed. Of course he was not going to find it; we could not.

I thought I would find Sam and Dean at the bunker, but it has been days since I spoke with them. Surely they would know. They would have to, but they were not there upon my arrival. It was only while Lucifer scavenged through the files that Dean found us; or rather, found Lucifer.

I do not know how he did it, but he took my persona, putting it on like a mask, to speak to Dean. I could not utter a world, standing helpless on the side while Lucifer spoke with Dean. At first it looked like Dean knew something was wrong, like he was about to say something, but then he spoke about Amara being in his sights. This was new information.

As much as I knew Dean thought he was speaking to the real me, I was fighting to break out, to listen to what Dean was saying as the real me. I could not come out completely, but as Dean told me about Amara and Crowley’s lair, about his inability to end her, my powers faltered. Why is Dean so attuned to Amara? And what is this about… attractions? 

I tried to connive fighting when I felt myself moving closer to Dean. This was dangerous. Dean may be a hunter, but even hunters let their guard down sometimes. This was Lucifer’s best shot at getting to Dean and I was not about to let it happen. I tried to send him a message but placing my hand on his shoulder. I do not think Lucifer caught it, but judging by the look I could just make out from Dean it was enough to make him suspicious. 

Sam called then, whether saving Dean or hurting him will never be known, but it was enough to get him away from him. Dean needed to be safe right now, regardless of what he had just told me about him and Amara. I cannot let myself think about that without risking Lucifer even more access to memories, if he has figured out how to do that at all.

With what Dean said I fell back into an odd subconscious state, finding myself once again in another first, looking up at the trees. 

Dean spoke to me like he would speak to me, but I was unable to tell him that I am not myself. Was saying Yes really the best option that I had? Is this still a good idea?

 

Yours,

Castiel

 

 


	28. January 28, 2016

Hello,

I have been  having memories of spending more time outside as of late, which for once I do not mind. Looking up into the trees of a long undisturbed forest is one of the most tranquil experiences that I have felt, but I confess I do not entirely know just exactly why this feeling hypotenuses me in this way. It may be sticky, wet, full of rain, or altogether dry and barren, but some of the most amazing areas of this world are the ones that humans seem to never truly see. Sometimes I believe that it is only in this way that we are allowed to keep them.

I have seen sunsets, clouds over the horizon, the moon at it’s highest point, and even the quiet aura of a cabin in the center of nowhere. While the humidity can be stifling; while the ticks of mosquitos can be irritating; while the heat of the sun can seem to alter the mood of the day entirely; seeing the intricate veins of a leaf of close or looking above at the canopy of red wood trees just towering above all else will make up for all of the uncomfortable circumstances that surround the vicious animal that is nature. Have you ever looked up into the trees, listened to their natural whistle during the oncoming of an approaching storm? It is a small, melodic sound; the voice of the forest in the middle of the earth. Hearing these things and then having it disrupted by the sound of a chainsaw or shotgun closely resembles the situation of a guitar string snapping in the middle of a ballad. This world only continues to perplex me with its ever-growing fascinations to destroy such a peaceful area for the sake of development. 

We can walk around for hours aimlessly here, free in our element while still completely in tune with our surroundings. There was a time where forests were not as appealing to me, particularly when that forest was full of leviathans hell bent on my destruction. Yes, at that moment I was sure that the wilderness would never truly be the once amiable place I had believed it to be ever again, but this is a different world. This is one filled with animals tending to their hunger by eating the grass in the fields, one with the predators and herbivores living in a symbiotic ecosystem, one filled with the buzz of life flowing through the arteries of the trunks of a tree. 

Of all things, I did not expect for him to miss _this_ with the amount of fervor that he does. Maybe there is some truth to his debate about having changed.

But then again, he is still the Devil.

But these thoughts are not meant to be discovered while walking through vines or tree roots. Right now, this is a moment where thought should not be required, where even with all that is happening, we can take a moment to step out of our modern world and return to a time where thought was almost nonexistent. This is a time to _see._

 

Yours,

Castiel


	29. January 29, 2016

Hello,

I am sure that I have spoken of my ever growing fascination with television. If not, then I will do so today. Television, whether it be in a streaming, digital format, or viewed through a television screen using a fixed, cable connection, has seemingly taken over the modern for of entertainment, competing with more traditional forms such as visiting the local amusement park or forest. With the advent of online forms it has become even more accessible for more shows to be creating, thus an infinite world of stories and adventures can be told through the same medium. I have watched countless hours now, absorbed completely in that world, and yet I have only begun to scrape the surface of genres, telenovelas, movies, and series.

With that, It seems I have stumbled upon a new television show, one that stars a celebrity chef and 18 other unknown cooks. It is referred to as _Hell’s Kitchen_ here, and though normally I do not think I would watch the show, I did find myself turning it on today, though I suspect others were to blame for that. This head chef, or the main chef of this show it seems, is quite the character. Oddly enough, he is entirely different around children than he is with adults, seemingly reverting back to a somewhat normal human form when showing praise or compassion. It seems that in _Hell’s Kitchen,_ however, those emotions cease to exist. This man must either be an incredible actor or an dangerous foe; perhaps both. 

Regardless, I do find myself enjoying the show at times. It is entertaining learning about different recipes and seeing the glee of contestants’ faces when they are presented with rewards, but what I find oddly intriguing is watching the food preparation when it goes awry. Chef Ramsey will destroy the plate with the overcooked/undercooked produce and call for a retire or restart, or even perhaps kicking the chef responsible out altogether. Oddly enough I envisioned myself in the role and how I would behave. It has occurred to me that this would most likely be Lucifer’s visions ingraining themselves using my outward appearance, but nevertheless the idea did develop in my subconscious as well. I suspect if I was in the place of the competing chefs, I too would make various unequivocal mistakes. It is quite possible I would be the first one kicked off of the show, mainly because I know I have burned water in the past while trying to help Dean cook when we were in the bunker. Perhaps that was why the pasta tasted bland…

It is most likely for the best that I am not a chef.

 

Yours,

Castiel


	30. January 30, 2016

Hello,

I must share a rather humorous story today regarding animals and their very patient desire to follow anything that they find intriguing. I guess that humans are like them that way; only humans will either investigate or flee.

To continue, I was walking by a lake somewhere in southern Oklahoma when I noticed a group of ducks huddled towards the edge. It is customary to find them in such areas, but they are not always found with their young, crowding around the mother as if she was a lifeline. Naturally, my curiosity matches the animals’ and I drew closer to them.

One regarded me with its head held high, which only leads me to believe that this one was the patriarch. The other was tending to the little ducklings. It was actually a very pleasing sight to see in nature, a family free of any form of imminent danger. I drew ever closer towards them, wanting to watch their interaction.

This is when I realized that there were not a family of the averaged duck but actually in fact were a flock of wild geese.

The bigger goose charged towards me, fully intent on following me until I stumbled or climbed the nearest tree. I attempted to run, but I felt myself still and wait for the goose to come towards me. When it realized I was not moving it slowed and regarded me with the same amount of scrutiny I must have been giving it in return. I often wonder what another being is thinking, therefore this is no exception.

Whether it was a spurred decision or a brash one, I found myself crouching down and conversing with the goose about any topic that came to mind. Maybe this animal had a clue about the darkness that I had yet to discover? The conversation, no matter how one-sided, was going well until I felt my phone vibrate and then go off, adding a mechanical and man made sound to the atmosphere of such a natural habitat. That was when the goose attacked, the others taking off into the lake.

It bit my leg first, fast enough to attack me before I could fully get upright again. It chased me for a fair number of minutes, squeaking what I can only imagine are obscenities in the avian language. Only was it when I managed to cut a turn and make it across the local highway was I able to evade the demonic creature.

I suppose that the moral of the story is that I was the curious animal and the goose was more than willing to let me know that I had overstepped my predetermined boundaries.

My leg still hurts, just as an aside. 

 

Yours,

Castiel


	31. January 31, 2016

Hello,

My, it has already been a month into this new year and I find that my resolution has withheld the test so far. With these entries I have found many new conversations and topics of discussion for further insight, and there are quite a number of you out there now with over 780 followers. Thank you very much for taking the time to read my musings and converse with me, even if as of late my corporeal self has taken a dramatic turn of events.

With life comes many sayings, some of which alter over the course of time and are affected by the culture living in that era. I have heard sayings and references to television series,  broadway musicals, and political debates that I have only ever heard in these past few years alone, sprinkled into every day conversation and taken as definition of a topic altogether different. What do these sayings mean, exactly? “Tho,” “Fleek,” “Omfg,” the list foes on. These sayings as well s the reoccurring meme have become second nature to this online world as well as the physical world in which humans live. Despite there being a similarity in that it is the same species creating both forms, the conversations and events that spawn them can come from entire different perspectives. There has been much debate over the presidential campaign in the United States from the news reports that I have seen over the past few months, and yet at the same time there have been an excess of funny, pragmatic images that have circulated throughout social media sights, painting the election into an entirely different era that is much more comical and entertaining to witness, though at times it is as indecipherable as the candidates.

The culture that humans seem to be experiencing is drastically different around the world, with both hand signals, makeup, customs, and clothing all playing factors in how the children and adults of those areas comport themselves in a situation. Language can be an entire separate section altogether when concerning culture and communication. And to think that, despite differences in all of these areas, humans continue to converse and speak about a variety of topics that have the potential to plague them all. Communication can be wide and disperse and yet there are still two brothers that refuse to be open to one another about everything, relying on an angel to be their confidant and at times go between. That is not always the case, hypothetically speaking of course, but there are times when this said angel is the one that may hold all of the information not shared by the brothers equally, sword to secrecy or otherwise not allowed to tell the other for better or for worse. Yes, communication and the lack thereof can go both ways, it seems.

But the root of this entry is culture and the variance that spans the world (Or at least, I believe that is what has been written thus far. There are times when I ramble and flow through various topics before settling on one to the end). To meet these people and hear them speak and converse with one another, regardless of how far away they are from the area you most recognize, their culture can be vastly different from your own. Is that not an intriguing topic? To learn about the world through another person’s eyes even, and they may come form the same background as you, to see yourself through another person’s eyes. What would they think about me, I wonder? Has their emotions towards me changed? 

It is all such a blur. I am starting to feel as if I cannot hold a string of coherent thoughts together long enough to carry an intellectual conversation. I suppose in a way I am obstructed from being able to do so with Sam or Dean at the moment, but this development  is only temporary.

 

Yours,

Castiel

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Like I said at the beginning, these are all taken from [castielsentries ](http://www.castielsentries.tumblr.com) on tumblr, which is very active with Cas answering questions as well as Dean and Sam. Feel free to drop by and stay current :)

**Author's Note:**

> All entries taken from castielsentries on tumblr, which can be found [here](http://www.castielsentries.tumblr.com)
> 
> Feel free to drop by and say hello


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